The Shot
by Fwe
Summary: This was the only shot, and she was begging him to pull the trigger. Selvine.


_**The Shot**_

Author: Fwe

Summery: This was the only shot. Selvine

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VIII

Rating: PG

A/N: Well, I must warn you that this is strange. I was trying for a new writing style and it came out rather… Stephen King-ish.XD I'm not quite sure what to make of it, so I'll let you give it a try. Enjoy!

More notes at the bottom. ;)

* * *

This was the only shot.

The wind whipped. Odd swirls and ripples moved in things that had no business being disturbed. The forest was quiet (deadly quiet). Too wrong…

The scent of burning pine came to him. Something else (what did fear smell like?) rode on its tail. The perfume was powerful, pulling at the air like a weight (lead in his heart). Was it that? The air? Was it something else?

His heart felt too heavy. The air was too thick to breathe…

Acrid smoke (choking tendrils falling into everything (seeping, seeping like… like-)). It was the kind of smell that woke you from your nightmares.

Death: Nature's musk.

How much more could there be?

He didn't want to know, didn't want to think. Could he? Could he? Could-

He ran his eye along the sight. The world was shaking at the end, and he was at the other.

His target smirked.

"Are you afraid?"

_Yes,_ he thought, _Oh, yes…_

Could he? How…

"Why do you ask?" His hands were shaking…

What if there was no chance to say it later? Could he tell her then? Would she hear him? If… if he…

"You afraid of missing, cowboy?" That smirk… that infernal smirk, he hated that smirk (an evil smirk). The voice expressed it so well, yet never showed an inch of it on his face. He'd shoot it… he would, he… Could he?

"No," _No, I'm terrified… _

His shaking hands leveled near the smirking voice. Could he make it? The shot…

"Then shoot."

Twenty feet. All the distance between him and the smirk (a devil's, a demon's, a… a-)

"Shut up."

Two inches. All the distance between her and the smirk (a monster, a windigo-)

She was so close… Honey, butterflies, sunshine. Could he, could he? Could…

He tried to aim again.

"Irvine," she whispered. Her breath escaped into the air, white. White as… as…

Snow. Bloody snow. Bloody, bloody, bloody-

Blood (did it seep like burning smoke?)…

"Selphie." The word escaped his lips like her hair through his fingertips. "Please, I don't want to kill you…"

"I know."

She knew… He knew…

"How sweet," the smirk said. "How sweet of you two." Like honey, like sunshine, like…

"Selphie, please… don't make me shoot…" _I can't._

"You can do it." _Please._

"I thought you weren't afraid." _Are you?_

"Shut up." _Yes. Oh, Hyne, yes…_

"Just shoot, Irvine." Selphie, sweet Selphie… how could she trust him?

"I can't," he said. Could he, could he? "I might hit you…"

"You won't."

_I know, I know, I know, I know… _

The words felt like knives (sharp, cutting, biting) jammed into his heart.

"But-" _Could he?_

"No buts." _You can._

"Shoot already." _You'll miss._

_I always choke like this... I just can't handle the pressure..._

"I'll hit you, Selphie!"

"No, you won't."

"You're too close to him, I'll miss!"

"You won't."

"Please…"

"Irvine…"

"What if-"

_He's got a knife at your throat, Sephie… What if?_

_His arm is around your stomach, Sephie. What if?_

_**My hands are shaking, Selphie! What if-! **_

"Please…"

Two inches (from that smirk).

Twenty feet (from him).

His bullet (that smirk).

The distance (not relevant).

"I believe in you, Irvy."

Belief…

He leveled, he pulled, he… he…

A shot rang through the air.

Two inches (in between two faces).

Twenty feet (from two people).

And Irvine had shot two inches too far to the right.

* * *

Acrid smoke; it seeped, it poured, it swirled in your nightmares from a burning fire that you never even saw. Death? Was that what it smelt like?

Irvine thought he knew.

A bullet… one bullet… it had traveled the distance.

She blinked at him. He smiled and kissed the top of her head, smelling (honey, sunshine, butterflies) her hair over the iron scent of his tears.

"Irvine…" she said. Her hand came up red to his face and he kissed it too, holding it gently in one palm.

"Selphie…" Two inches. Was that all he had had to work with? "I'm sorry…"

"It's okay," she smiled and tried not to grip her wound too tightly.

Two inches… With one bullet he'd managed to graze one shoulder and one heart.

Both in the wrong order.

"Don't die, please…" _I love you._

"I'm sorry, Irvy…" _I know._

A second bullet…the second bullet… it had flown the distance.

She blinked and shuddered, and Irvine cursed himself.

"Irvine?"

"… Yeah?"

"I'm not afraid."

_I know._

There were no inches, no feet, between them as he held her (as there was no distance between the second bullet and the dead man).

A dead man, a dead man, a dead…

Was she?

Irvine's heart nearly stopped as she closed her eyes.

"_Selphie!_"

Her eyes snapped open. Fire played on the air (blood, tears, wood, gunpowder).

"Irvine…" she whispered.

_Curaga, Life, Curaga… _

"Selphie, please don't die…"

"I'm not afraid…"

_Curaga, Phoenix Down, Cure… _

"Wake up!"

"I'm not afraid…"

_Curaga… _

"Live for me…"

"...

...I will…

..."

_Life.

* * *

_

Her (his) sunshine had faded. His (her) hands were covered in blood. Her (his) wings had been broken.

… And she (he) awoke in the infirmary-

_alive._

"Hostage situation under control, sir."

* * *

I'm not sure if I could explain it properly if someone asked me to. Selphie's and the… er… kidnapper's thoughts tend to mix a little, and I actually did mean to write it that way (someone asked that in a review). The actual purpose of this was to confuse you until the end (someone asked that in a review too), so I'm sorry if you got really confused and never understood it at all. I was kind of half asleep when I wrote it. Tell me if I shouldn't write like this anymore.

P.S. Any questions, feel free to e-mail me. :)


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